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Come softly if you please

wake me from this edgy age

my hands hold tenderly,

the lava of passion burns surely

his marks imprints in my soul

take completely of me everything

and when the sun rears his graceful head

let’s bask in the glory the dusk brings

of stars, of past dreams, of illusions, of deceptive but beguiling smiles

so I will wear your touch like  the lingering aftertaste of honey

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